


To the heavens again

by Adara_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Child Murder, F/M, Infanticide, M/M, Miscarriage, Shrieking Shack, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: A lonely stone bear in the cemetery carries a heart reading 'Eileen, 1976, to the heavens again'.“Who was she?" she asks as she takes his hand. He ignores her question.“Do you know what werewolves do with unborn children?” He asks instead.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> “From the heavens, to the womb, to the heavens again,  
> From the ending to the ending, never got to begin”  
> Flipsyde, ‘Happy Birthday’

Luna carefully placed the tiny bouquet of fresh flowers by the little stone bear and took a step back. She had picked them on the little field just outside the cemetery, and with their lopsided petals and uneven stems they looked like something a child would bring to a loved parent. In a way, that made it even more fitting since the little bear was holding a stone heart with a very short message inscribed.  _ Eileen, 1976, to the heavens again. _

“Who was she?” she finally asked, when her companion had stood in silence for several moments and she was starting to feel a bit chilly.

“My sister” Draco murmured, not looking away from the inscription. “Or, she was supposed to be my sister.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” 

They stood in silence, both shivering slightly. The summer warmth did not quite reach this tranquil little place under the heavy trees, and only thin rays of sunlight managed to make their way through the branches and leaves. 

“What happened?” Luna wondered, watching a tiny ladybug crawl slowly across the stone shelves hewn into the rock, past the little bear with the name  _ Eileen _ and onwards towards other memorials of lost children.

Draco did not answer her for several moments, lost in memories he was not yet ready to share with her. Perhaps he would never be. Then, in a very soft voice, he asked;

“Do you know what werewolves do with unborn children?” 

Luna shook her head; that detail was something she did not recall, and if she remembered correctly she had chosen to forget it because of how terrible it was.

“No” she murmured as she took his hand, the one with the ring on it. The ring that told the world that he was hers. 

“They eat them.” he whispered into the silence of the trees.

The ladybug flew away.


	2. Chapter 2

_ February, 1976. _

 

Later on, as Hagrid looked back on that night, he would never be able to say what had made him get out of bed. There was no reason for him to do so; none of his charges needed to be checked upon, and as he made his rounds the chilly February winds prickled his skin and made him regret his lack of outerwear.

 

He checked the last pen, where a cockatrice with a wounded wing was snoring peacefully, and turned to go back inside to his warm bed. That was when he heard it; a soft rustling, dragging noise. It was the noise of a wounded animal struggling to keep going, stumbling and limping along in a desperate quest for survival. He turned slowly, not wanting to frighten the creature with the slow, pained gate, waiting for the moonlight to illuminate it enough for identification. 

 

The full moon was dimmed this night, covered with clouds and mist, but still her beams managed to find their way down to earth. In the soft glow from the rays, a creature emerged from the crouching darkness and slowly stumbled towards him with an awkward, limping gait. It took Hagrid a few moments to realise what he was seeing, but then he reacted very quickly. What it was that made him hurry he could never tell you - was it the torn robes? The blood, shining darkly against the ruined fabric? Or perhaps it was the wild-eyed look of agony and terror on the boys face. Perhaps it was all three. Perhaps it did not matter as he ran towards the boy and scooped him up into his arms, carrying him like a child towards the castle and the help that could be found within.

 

When the boy went limp in his arms after only a few yards, Hagrid allowed himself a single  _ ‘hell!’ _ and broke into a run.

 

* * *

 

 

Poppy Pomfrey was not happy to be woken at three in the morning by a frantic half-giant, but when she saw what he carried in his arms all her anger vanished like a man with an invisibility cloak from his irate wife and cool professionalism took its place.

“Put him here” she demanded and pointed at a long, slim table that she normally used for examinations. “Get Dumbledore.” Hagrid, in his desperate state, managed to place the boy on the table with surprising gentleness before hurrying out of the Hospital Wing without as much as a whisper of protest. Poppy did not care to see him go, instead she scrambled for her wand and suture kit. She could not yet see the wound clearly, but she saw enough to realise the severity. The dark red patches of blood on the heavy wool of the school robe were a rather clear indication of the danger the boy was currently in.

 

She sliced away the mangled remains of the robe with a knife, finding it faster than cutting with scissors, and ripped them open the last bit to get to the injury. Then, there was a moment she stood frozen in horror, staring at what lay before her. Poppy was an experienced nurse, who had earned her license during the height of Grindelwald’s reign of terror, but even she had never seen anything like this. She allowed herself a quick glance at the unconscious boy’s face to see if she could identify him, and after that one glance it was all clear to her like a vivid memory from a nightmare. 

“Oh, Merlin” she choked out. “Oh, Merlin, not you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dumbledore was a distinguished wizard, and distinguished wizards do not scramble in a panic even if he still has his slippers on. They were his favorites, pink rabbits with the cheeriest little bells on the tip of their ears. So, it was definitely not scrambling that he entered the healing wing about fifteen minutes after Hagrid had showed up in his bedroom, sobbing and blubbering something about a student and blood and Poppy. Rather than trying to get some sense out of the man, Dumbledore had simply handed him a bottle of firewhiskey and pulled on his robes before hurrying to the Hospital Wing to find out what in the blazes was going on. He was met by a truly gruesome sight: Poppy Pomfrey stood bent over the body of a young boy, her white nurse's outfit covered in blood and gore as she desperately poured healing magic into one of the most terrifying gut wounds Dumbledore had seen in his life. And he had fought Grindelwald. 

“Dear Merlin” he gasped, “what the-”

“No time, Albus, he’s dying. Help me.” Poppy gritted out and Dumbledore scrambled to obey her request. Casting blood clotting and rejuvenation spells alternatively as Poppy healed each open wound, they worked in almost complete silence for nigh on two hours. The only sounds heard were the low rumble of Dumbledore’s increasingly exhausted voice. 

Finally, Poppy finished healing the gaping gut wound and stood back, exhausted and pale.

“There” she said, “now it's up to him.”

“What the hell happened?” Dumbledore demanded, exhausted but insisted to get answers.

“I… I don’t know. Hagrid brought him in like this. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even during the war. And…” Poppy drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I… the baby. He lost the baby.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Severus opened his eyes he had no idea where he was or how much time had passed. He did not remember much; there had been a creature. Blood. Agonizing pain and the complete confidence that he was going to die. So where was he then? Hell? He was surprised that hell had clean white sheets and smelled sweetly of healing herbs and laundry detergent. But it definitely could not be heaven, Father had been most convincing in his repeated rants about Severus going to hell for his wicked ways. He sat up slowly, but a sharp pain in his abdomen made him sink back towards the sheets with a choked cry.

 

The cry brought the nurse over, a stern look on her face.

“Now you lay still, young man. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“Pomfrey?” He asked, bewildered.

“Of course. Who else would I be?” She sounded cross, but her eyes were more worried than anything else.

“I’m sorry” he apologized dazedly after she had forced a potion down his throat, “you don’t deserve to be here.” 

“Be where?” Now she was honestly worried. 

“In hell. With me. I died, you see. In the shack.”

“Oh, Severus. You are not dead, dear.” She said, gently now, patting his hand soothingly. Then, hesitating but briefly, she went on.

“However… there is something I must tell you.” Her gaze flicked towards his abdomen, which he could clearly see was flat and covered in thick, white bandages. She did not need to continue for him to understand.

“My baby” he whispered, pleadingly. Poppy’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m so sorry, dear.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Severus woke up, it was to a handsome blond twenty-something man asleep in the chair standing by his bed. He looked disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through his hair multiple times before deciding that he was better off tugging at his robe.

“Lucius” Severus croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep and thirst. But it was enough to make the man startle violently, nearly falling to the floor.

“Severus!” He cried in relief and joy, leaning forward to see him better. “Oh, thank Merlin, when I got the news-” He broke of, made a choked noise. “Thank Merlin” he repeated.

“Water” Severus croaked, feeling as if he might faint if he did not drink. Lucius hands shook as he picked up the glass on the bedside table and held it to Severus’ lips, and though most of the water ended up on him it tasted sweet and cool. After he had drunk his fill, Severus sunk back towards the pillows, exhausted.

“I am alive, as you can see.” He said, quietly, eyes already drooping. But he needed to say this while he still had the strength to. Needed to tell Lucius.

“Yes, thank Merlin” the blond replied reverently, looking at him in that soft way that always made Severus’ heart ache with love for him. Severus stared intently at his face, memorizing each line and groove, the way the sun shone on his blond hair and the way his eyes glowed. He would keep that look in his heart, as one of his fondest memories of childhood dreams. 

“Lucius” he whispered, “I need to tell you-”

“You need to rest, love” Lucius interrupted, taking his hand. The one that wore the ring. 

Severus shook his head. No, he had to tell Lucius that their dream had shattered, and better he be told now. 

“Eileen” he whispered, knowing that the mentioning of her would make Lucius listen if nothing else would, “Eileen.”

“Yes, love?” He could see in Lucius face that he did not want to know, did not want to hear.  _ Don’t tell me _ , those grey eyes pleaded.  _ Lie to me. Please, don’t tell me. _

“Eileen is gone” Severus whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. Lucius shook his head slowly.

“No” he croaked, clearly not willing to accept what he had just heard. But Severus gripped his hand as tight as his exhausted body allowed.

“Yes” he insisted. “Eileen is gone. And… and there won’t be anymore, Lucius. I can’t… the damage was too extensive.” 

He stared helplessly as his lover’s eyes filled with tears, a particularly daring one slipping down one alabaster cheek as he shook his head in denial. 

“No” he said stubbornly, “you’re going to be alright, you’ll see. After we’re married.”

“There won’t be a marriage, Luc.” Severus whispered, exhausted and heartbroken. “The agreement was… an heir. I had to give you an heir. I can’t, anymore.” Lucius shook his head again, more tears forcing their way past his lashes.

“No” he protested, “there will be. You will wear that white robe you picked out and-” but his voice trailed of, anguished, helpless. Severus looked at their clasped hands. The ring shining on his finger.

“You… better take back the ring” he finally said, when Lucius’ silent tears started to become audible. “I’m sure your wife won’t mind… someone else wearing it before.” Lucius shook his head again, desperate, pleading.

“No, it’s yours, only you-” but Lucius’ voice trailed of again, as the tears made him choke. They both knew that everything was ending.

“I love you” he begged, finally.

“I know” Severus whispered, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and never wake up again.

“But love… isn’t enough, Luc.”


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed after Lucius’ visit, and most of the time Severus slept. There was little else to do; wake up, drink healing potions, get scanned by Poppy, try not to look at the band of pale skin where his engagement ring had been. Sleep some more. Heal. His body, at least. There was not a spell in the world that could heal his soul. Time would do that. Hopefully. Someday. 

 

* * *

 

 

One afternoon, Pomfrey sat down carefully on the chair next to his bed. 

“We need to talk about arrangements” she said, carefully. “You were far enough along…” she drew a deep breath and pushed on, “for the child to start developing their own magic, and as you know that means it is legally a person. Therefore I need a name to write on… on the death certificate.” 

Severus nodded tiredly. He was exhausted down to the bone, and really did not care for much of anything. But if it made Pomfrey go away… 

“Eileen” he said, “we were going to call her Eileen. After my mother.” he smiled a half-smile, the kind you get on your face when you remember a sweet dream you had a very long time ago. Or someone you loved once.

“Eileen” Pomfrey repeated as she wrote on the pad she was holding. “Any other names?”

“Alice.”

“after…?”

“Alice in wonderland. Yes.”

“How sweet. Did the father…?”

“Yes. His favourite book. He said that he liked wonderland. No expectations there. You could be whatever you wanted. Or be nothing at all, and that was alright, too.” Pomfrey tried to smile back at him, but failed. Instead she focused on filling out the certificate.

“Alice Eileen, or?”

He nodded, exhausted.

“And the father is Lucius Malfoy.” she hastily corrected her mistake. “Was. the father was Lucius Malfoy,” Severus closed his eyes.

“Yes. he was.” They said nothing else as Pomfrey filled out the certificate; sex, birth parent, expected due date. June 30th. Only a little over four months to go. But now there wouldn’t be an Eileen. Only this piece of parchment and a heavily scarred boy who would never carry a child again. And a photo… she hesitated.

“I got the photo back. The sonogram.” She said slowly, “would you… would you like to see it?” 

Severus opened his eyes again, and in them she could see a bone-deep exhaustion that overrode any other emotions. Even grief. That would come later.

“Yes” he whispered, “please.” she handed him the photo, and in silence he looked at the grainy black and white photo that every now and then changed a little as the baby moved. That was his daughter. The only proof he would ever have of her existence. He smiled at her. He loved her so much. His Eileen.

 

* * *

 

 

On the day Severus was due to be released from the hospital wing, Dumbledore came to speak to him. Severus did not really pay attention to him to be honest, but that was not exactly needed. He understood well enough what the headmaster did not say in between ‘very sorry’s and ‘tragic accidents and ‘leave it all behind us’: keep your mouth shut, Snape, or there will be consequences. He could fight, he supposed, but he didn’t have it in him. He had nothing within him, nothing but this exhaustion that made him feel as if he was swimming in quicksand. He wondered if this was depression, because he felt nothing. He was numb, empty, the only thing that could be classified as feeling anything was the occasional twinges from his still-healing abdomen. The scars would always be there, Pomfrey had said, but they’d pale over time. He didn’t care; the only one he had really cared to see him nude was engaged, now. To a Black girl, he didn't remember which one and it didn’t matter. That part of his life was over, now. He had buried it along with Eileen. 

So he just said ‘yes, sir’ and ‘I understand, sir’ and hoped he did so in the right places. It didn't matter, anyways. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but the grainy photo in his pocket. 

“I can slay the jabberwocky” he whispered to himself as he left the Hospital Wing to walk, alone, back to the Slytherin dorms. “I can slay the jabberwocky.”


	6. Chapter 6

There was talk, of course. He was, after all, everyone’s favourite topic. Always had been, but now there was even more cruelty in the rumours than before. They talked about why Lucius had ended their engagement, mainly, speculating wildly about his infidelity, his immoral behaviour, his hideous appearance. It was only a time, he figured, before the rumour mill had it that he had tricked Lucius into drinking a love potion and then raped him or something along those lines. He made no attempt to defend himself; why should he? They did not matter, anyways. Fools and idiots, the lot of them. So stuck up, so superficial, so immature. The only thing that mattered was Eileen. And Eileen was gone.

* * *

 

He had hoped to have Lily in his corner at least, even though they had become rather estranged lately what with growing up, growing apart, and having boyfriends the other didn’t approve of. But he had learned quickly that she was on Potter’s side fully, accusing him of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong and getting himself in trouble over it, and he’d better not spread any lies about James and Sirius just to get back at them for their latest prank, which was dumb but just that - a prank. No matter how sore he was that Malfoy had dumped him.

He probably should have told her exactly what that ‘prank’ had cost him; she clearly wasn’t in the know, and reacted the way any typical teenage girl would react when she thought someone she loved (bloody Potter) was being wrongfully implicated as having done something bad. But instead, he had thought of Eileen and Lucius crying as he took back the engagement ring and the pain that never seemed to go away and the numbness spreading inside, and he had lashed out. Had screamed at her, ranted and yelled and called her every insult he could think of. Then he had crowned it all with the worst one of all. _I never want to see you again, you filthy mudblood_. And now, he supposed, he wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t even look at him anymore, and he did not know what was worse; the smug smirk from Black at having been successful at his ‘prank’, or the horrifying loneliness that came from having lost his only friend. He wondered if Black knew about the photo in his pocket. If Dumbledore had told him about Eileen. Severus himself was under strict order to stay away from the Marauders, and he was not foolish enough to go against the headmaster’s ‘requests’. No, in six weeks he’d graduate. He’d shut up and get through those weeks. Then he’d be free. To do what, he did not know.

All his plans had ended with Eileen.

 

* * *

 

 

Severus sat alone at the end of the train leaving Hogwarts, relieved that his classmates had preferred celebrating their graduation to tormenting him for his failures. The rumour mill had not tired of him as he had hoped, instead it had churned faster and faster until everyone knew that Snape was a whore, a murderer, a rapist, and what else only Merlin knew. He did not care. It did not matter.

 

In his pocket, there were two things. A grainy photograph of an unborn baby, and a short message.

  


 

> _My deepest condolences at your devastating loss._
> 
> _Please, come see me at your earliest opportunity,_
> 
> _I think we need to have a talk._
> 
> _~ T.M. Riddle._


End file.
